Dirty Dancing
by kikispeachdelivery
Summary: Kapkan lost a bet with Tachanka, and he is required to pay in an unexpected way.


**Dirty Dancing**

* * *

It's a fine Saturday afternoon, the sun shines brightly, and the weather is unreasonably nice for wintertime. People walk around Hereford, enjoying the daylight and the hints of the upcoming spring. Not everyone is happy though. Kapkan walks down the street like a man fleeing from his problems. Slightly hunched, hands in the pockets of his hoodie and scowling at any unfortunate soul who dares look at him. The reason of his foul mood is that he's, in fact, heading into a big problem; he still doesn't know what it is, but Tachanka sure has picked something that will make Kapkan want to strangle him. That's the kind of friendship they have.

He's still peeved that he lost their stupid bet. Exchanging gadgets for a training session had seemed like a fun idea at the time, but then boasts were made, and their competitiveness reared its ugly head. Kapkan's still surprised at how well Tachanka chose the placement for the EDDs, racking up a decent amount of 'kills' and single-handedly making the team win the round. Damn Tachanka and his unwieldy LMG, that hulking machine was the reason Kapkan had been taken out early on. He regrets not having accorded beforehand what the loser would have to do, because now he's basically at Tachanka's mercy and who knows what the older man has planned.

The building in front of him makes Kapkan quirk an eyebrow in disbelief, so he checks the address again to make sure he's at the right place. He had no idea there was a striptease club so close to the base. Hoping that Tachanka only wants to make him pay for a couple of beers and a dancer, Kapkan pushes the door and enters the club. The place is completely deserted, and despite the early hour, Kapkan can't help but find that very odd. He quietly walks around, taking in the decor and trying to find traces of human presence.

Tachanka comes out of a door in the back of the club, behind the stage with the poles. "You are late! What are you waiting for? Come here!"

Wary like a cat approaching an overly enthusiastic dog, Kapkan comes closer to Tachanka, who leads him to the backstage changing room. It isn't until he sees the clothes neatly laid out on a table that Kapkan realises what Tachanka has planned. He looks at the pink, satiny garments with contempt and then turns around to face his so-called friend.

For a few seconds, Kapkan wonders if this is all a joke, but Tachanka looks serious about it, expectant even. "No fucking way, this is not going to happen."

"No? After all the trouble I went through to ensure we'd be alone in here!"

"How did you even manage that?"

"The owner is a friend of Baker and owes us some favours," Tachanka crosses his arms and looks at him with the calculating expression he sometimes wears on the field, "I thought you would appreciate that I didn't bring anyone to witness how you pay your end of the deal."

Kapkan tenses at the unspoken threat. They made their bet with Smoke, Bandit and Kaid as witnesses, and Kapkan is horrified by the idea of any of them seeing him dressed in _that_. It may be painful to admit, but having only Tachanka here is the less humiliating option.

"Fine," he growls, "let's imagine I put this stupid pink garbage on. Then what?"

"You dance, of course!" Tachanka's merry tone of voice is making Kapkan want to punch him, "One song and then you can go."

Sounds easy. Well, sort of easy maybe. He gives a stiff nod and Tachanka's face lights up in genuine delight. Kapkan's sure he will come to regret this, but the sooner it's over, the better. "Well, fuck off so I can change."

"I'll be waiting, first door on the left!" Tachanka leaves with a booming laugh and cold dread weighs down on Kapkan's stomach.

He eyes the clothing waiting for him with a mix of distaste and trepidation. What has he got himself into? More accurately, how is he supposed to get into those things? Picking up a strange tangle of cloth strips, he realises it's a jockstrap. A mostly transparent and pink jockstrap. Kapkan lets it go like it bit his fingers. With an irritated huff, he undresses, continuously looking behind him to make sure he's alone. Sliding into the jockstrap is the easiest part, although the sheer material of the pouch doesn't leave much to the imagination and Kapkan feels more naked with it on that with no clothes at all. He's entirely too aware of how the straps frame his bare ass, clinging tightly to him with every move he makes.

Next comes a rigid piece he identifies as a corset. Kapkan's face burns just by thinking about wearing it. The back of it is already laced, thank fuck for small mercies, with a row of shiny hook fasteners on the front. It takes him a while to get it right, but Kapkan manages to put it on correctly. The garter belt and the thigh highs he has to attach to it are without a doubt the hardest part, more so with the corset hindering his movements somewhat.

Once he's done, Kapkan catches a glimpse of himself on the mirror behind him and quickly averts his eyes. He isn't a shy person, and he's used to communal showers and the lack of privacy inherent to the military life. However, his reflection on the mirror dressed in all this pink stuff is something Kapkan can't handle. He looks like a whore, the corset underlining and pushing out his pecs, and the jockstrap putting his ass on display. He is going to kill Tachanka.

The floor is cold. He only has the thin material of the stockings protecting his feet, since no shoes have been provided. And honestly, Kapkan prefers to go barefooted than trying on anything with high heels. The first door on the left turns out to be a room for private dances, the pole in the middles of the room and mirrors everywhere, making it impossible for Kapkan to not look at his reflection. His scowl deepens, and if looks could kill Tachanka would inevitably fall dead in an instant. Speaking of the devil, Tachanka's sitting on a ridiculously huge and plush black leather bench. And he actually dares to whistle when Kapkan enters the room.

"The prettiest dancer this place has ever seen!" Tachanka's words have a strange effect on Kapkan, his heart skipping a beat randomly. Despite his momentary distraction, he still notices how Tachanka uses a remote to start on the music, a tune with an easy rhythm for dancing. "Go ahead, impress me."

At that moment Kapkan seriously contemplates the possibility of just saying no and going back to his apartment. However, he's already come this far, he's already dressed for the part, and he supposes it's easier to go along and get it over with. The pole looks foreboding and alien the closer he gets to it, Kapkan has no idea of what he's supposed to do. Grabbing it with one hand, he closes his eyes and tries to imagine it's a gymnastic training exercise, only he has to move with the music. It works, in the sense that he's no longer standing still like an idiot, but it's incredibly awkward. Kapkan thinks about what movements could be considered appropriate for pole dancing, but he adamantly refuses even to try spinning on the pole - bending backwards, that he can stomach to do; although he has to keep his knees separated for balance and thus expose his crotch. Tachanka seems to like it since he hollers and comes closer to slip a crumpled banknote on his garter belt.

After that, the awkwardness shifts into something different, more intense and difficult to articulate. Kapkan starts introducing modified fighting moves on his dancing, from his CQC routine and even copying some of IQ's routine, since he's seen her at the gym more than once. His movements get a lot more fluid and natural, and Tachanka's smile widens. The older operator looks like he's won the lottery and, between all that rapt attention centered on him and his performance, Kapkan is getting flustered.

The moment he turns his back on Tachanka because of a spinning move, he feels a pinch on his buttcheek, and the crinkling of another banknote slipped under the strap of his underwear. Kapkan pushes Tachanka back with his foot, a firm pressure that can't be really called a kick to the chest. The bastard has the gall to grip his ankle and slide his hand up, caressing Kapkan's leg over the stocking, reaching the exposed thigh and going higher. Kapkan is incensed by Tachanka's behaviour, but most of all for how he's flushing because of it.

"You can't keep your hands to yourself, huh?" He jumps at Tachanka, wrestling him, trying to throw him off, or perhaps just looking for an excuse to kick him in the shins.

It's a fierce struggle, and while Kapkan's forte is without a doubt hand to hand combat, he's in a strange getup that restricts his movements, and the surface where they're fighting isn't that big. Besides, fighting Tachanka is like fighting a bear, he can crush you with his bare arms. The bench squeaks when Kapkan eventually pushes Tachanka down, managing to pin the older man down and sitting on his stomach, hands pressing down on Tachanka's shoulders. The smug feeling of victory lasts only a few seconds, as Kapkan soon realises he's thoroughly aroused. In fact, after all that close contact during their wrestling, his cock is now straining against the sheer fabric, barely contained at all. He can't help rubbing against the solid body beneath him, and of course, Tachanka notices the way he shifts and growls, one step away from moaning.

"You have a strange idea of what a lap dance is." Tachanka chuckles, amused despite the circumstances and seemingly unbothered by how Kapkan is sitting on top of his very noticeable bulge. His hands are still roaming on Kapkan's smooth skin, gripping him tightly enough that it might leave a bruise. The older man's hands travel up and down his thighs, one of them venturing towards his ass. Their position resembles too much the kind of situations that plague Kapkan's thoughts every night. Kapkan glares at Tachanka, mentally cursing him to hell and back for the way he unsettles the hunter's inner peace, effortlessly smashing down Kapkan's carefully placed restraints.

"Who's been satisfying you?" The question takes Kapkan by surprise. He's still trying to find an appropriate reply when calloused fingers come to tease and pinch one of his nipples until the stimulation on the hardened nub makes him moan. Tachanka's fingers trace the skin along the edge of the corset before going to the other nipple, pinching it roughly. "You used to come to me for that, and you've been avoiding me for weeks. Who is it?"

"You're jealous? What, flirting with Lera at every opportunity isn't enough for you?" Kapkan regrets his answer as soon as he's done speaking. That's the real reason he's been avoiding Tachanka. Kapkan doesn't like depending on anyone, and he got too reliant on the older man, too attached. However, his pride won't allow him to admit he ran away scared. The beat of the music, a different song from before Kapkan realises, and their heavy breathing are the only noises in the room for a few seconds until he reluctantly answers the question. "There's no one."

His hissed confession seems to please Tachanka immensely, judging by the way he hums and kisses the side of Kapkan's neck. The fingers abusing his nipple move to his groin, a warm hand cupping him over the thin fabric of the jockstrap. Kapkan presses against it, growling like a wild animal.

"So you've been just holding off for weeks?" Tachanka rubs over the wet spot on his underwear, thumb swirling and spreading the beads of precum around the head. Pleasure and lust run hot on his veins, making Kapkan moan and place his hands on Tachanka's chest, trying to open his shirt and get more skin to skin contact. "How much do you want it, tell me."

Kapkan is overheated and desperate, and yet he can't bring himself to ask for what he really wants. However, Tachanka knows how to play him like a fiddle, coming up to lick and suck his nipples, the hint of teeth scraping against the skin making Kapkan groan. The hand toying with the hunter's cock pulls the flimsy clothing aside to free his trapped erection, but instead of stroking his dick Tachanka cups his balls, massaging them gently.

Not wanting to give Tachanka the satisfaction to know how much this is affecting him, Kapkan tries to distract himself. On a small table next to the plush bench he spies a basket full of colourful packets, all of the samples of lube. He narrows his eyes. What kind of club is this exactly? Not just a strip joint, that's for sure. Tachanka notices him staring at the table and follows his gaze. A packet gets snatched from there, Tachanka opens it with his teeth and lets the slick dribble over his hand. Kapkan is expecting the contact, but he still flinches at the cold touch of lube against his hole. He has to admit the finger alone feels great, pushing inside him in and giving a small measure of the satisfaction he craves. The second finger is even better, good enough to have him close his eyes and disregard the minor discomfort of how quick Tachanka is stretching him. He wants this more than he's ready to admit.

Kapkan opens his eyes again to Tachanka's smug grin, and no, the last thing he wants is to stroke Tachanka's already big ego. This will not do. "Is this all you got? The best you can do?"

His voice sounds pretty even despite the fingers in his ass brushing against his prostate and spreading him open. That makes him feel a little bit better about the situation, a little bit more in control. Tachanka's fingers mercilessly prod that sensitive spot with firm little strokes, driving Kapkan crazy with desire and the urge to beg. He tries his best to keep quiet, biting his lips to not whimper in pleasure. He doesn't want to give in so easily.

"You're stubborn, _Princess_ ," Tachanka huffs, not happy with how silent Kapkan is. He slowly withdraws his fingers, and Kapkan already wants to be filled again, be it with the fingers or with his cock. "Don't worry. I will make you moan."

That's probably true, but Tachanka's cockiness irritates him. Kapkan pushes him flat against the cushions, aggressively taking away his belt and surprising Tachanka by using the belt to tie his hands together in front of him. It won't last, in his haste Kapkan doesn't even fasten the belt properly, but it's the best he can do at the moment. He opens Tachanka's trousers, snarling like a caged beast. In other circumstances, he'd slow down and tease Tachanka, as a payback for everything, but Kapkan has wanted this for days, and the fingering hasn't helped one bit to quell the fire inside him. He gets Tachanka's cock out, not bothering to pull his trousers and underwear all the way down, and grabs another packet of lube.

"You dressed me up like a whore and asked for a show." Kapkan's hands tremble slightly with anticipation as he pours a generous amount of lube on Tachanaka's thick cock, stroking it to make sure it gets properly coated, before straddling his hips. "And you'll get a show, but on my terms."

He grips Tachanka's erection and slowly sinks on it, enjoying the stretch and groaning at how unbelievably good it feels. Kapkan takes a moment to get used to the feeling, just rocking back and forth and stroking his own hard length. Tachanka's legs twitch under him, but otherwise keeps suspiciously still, avidly looking how Kapkan's face goes slack in pleasure when he starts riding him in earnest.

"You look like a slut, Maxim," Tachanka drawls from under him, snapping his hips up and. No doubt the image he offers is quite a debauched one, Kapkan has caught a glimpse in one of the many mirrors. However, he's past the point of caring about it, so Kapkan braces his hands against Tachanka's chest and keeps fucking himself until his thighs begin to ache.

Eyes closed, Kapkan doesn't realise Tachanka has freed his hands from the belt until he grabs the hunter's hips and forces him to stop, cock still deep inside him. "Alex, I…fuuuck, Alex..."

Kapkan is too far gone to care about how breathless he sounds, how close to begging he is. Tachanka lifts him off his cock in an impressive display of strength, then pushes Kapkan face down on the bench. A hand smacks his ass, the sting giving way to a radiating warmth that only heightens Kapkan's arousal and his desire to cum. He growls, low and needy, and Tachanka laughs.

"We're playing by my rules now, _Princess_." Tachanka slaps his ass again and then spreads him open, thumb playing with one of the bands from the jockstrap that frame his butt. Without further preparation or warning, Tachanka slams back inside him, the thrust making Kapkan jerk forward and moan loudly. "That's it, show me how much you like it."

In this new position, Tachanka keeps hitting his sweet spot with every thrust, Kapkan screaming in bliss and clawing at the cushions. Tachanka keeps his fingers tangled on the fake laces of the corset and tugging at them to push Kapkan against him every time he snaps his hips forward.

"Mmh… yes, yes, Alex! Harder, I… Ah!"

Tachanka leans forward and bites his exposed shoulder, following with another bite to his neck. The mix of pain and pleasure is driving Kapkan crazy, just like the relentless thrusts are keeping him close to the edge. He begs, a litany of broken pleas mixed with Tachanka's name. As all answer, Tachanka smacks his ass again, and Kapkan clamps around him, precum leaking from his cock and his loud whimper mixes with Tachanka's pleased groan.

"Such a good little slut," it's satisfying how breathless Tachanka sounds, still pounding roughly into him. "Do you think you can come like this, with just my cock claiming you?"

In any other situation, Kapkan would scoff at the idea and the wording Tachanka used. However, he's almost there, ecstasy within reach and yet it keeps eluding him. He nods, letting out a shaky moan with every movement Tachanka does. It is not enough for Tachanka, who sinks his fingers on his hair, pulling at it until Kapkan turns to look at him. Their eyes meet and it is too much, too intimate.

"Yes, I think you can do it." Tachanka lets go of his hair to grab his waist, hands over the corset, securing him in place as his thrusts turn deeper, bottoming out with every push. Kapkan rocks back into him, chasing Tachanka's cock like his sanity depends on it. "That's it, come for Tachanka, baby."

With absolute incredulity, Kapkan realises his body is tensing up, a prelude to the shuddering ecstasy that follows. His eyes roll back and his back arches, head thrown back and seeking contact with Tachanka as his cock pulses and shots his release uncontrollably, a puddle of semen forming on the bench under him. Sweet relief washes over Kapkan, his legs still shaking. Even better, he can feel Tachanka's cock throbbing deep inside him, filling him up as his partner climaxes yelling Kapkan's name.

His heartbeat hasn't calmed down yet when Tachanka withdraws from him, making Kapkan wince slightly at both the discomfort of it and the cum dribbling out of him. This is the point where he usually gets dressed and slinks away, not quite in shame but not at peace either. However, his legs feel like they're made of jello. After gathering all the energy he could muster, he's only able to roll onto his side to not collapse on top of the wet spot on the bench. Most surprisingly, Tachanka lies down at his side, brushing the hair out of his forehead and caressing his face. Kapkan expects him to say something, anything, but Tachanka just looks at him, pensively. It's unsettling how quickly Kapkan dares to hope when he's not even sure what's he hoping for. The silence doesn't last much.

"It was a good show. The best I could ever ask for." It fucking figures. If Tachanka says a single word about Kapkan orgasming on his orders, he will kill him for real. "How about we go back to my place, watch a bad action movie and then I cook for you, _Princess_?"

Kapkan blinks, unsure he heard correctly. What Tachanka's proposing sounds… nice, dangerously domestic even. He doesn't even mind the accursed pet name, the affection behind it taking Kapkan by surprise. "Mhmm, but one usually takes people for dinner before fucking."

"Are you asking for a proper date?" Tachanka laughs, a happy sound that only stops when he kisses Kapkan's shoulder. "Next time, then."

Kapkan has the sudden certainty he's getting tangled into more than he bargained for with that comment, but despite how much he can and will complain, he doesn't actually regret it one bit.


End file.
